


Don't Disappoint Daddy

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: D/s, Daddy Dom!Tom, Daddy Kink, F/M, NSFW, Spanking, daddy dom, dd/lg, dom!Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: Triggers:  Don’t know if this will be continued, but there’s certainly the potential for non-con.  Spanking is contained herein.  Daddy-kink.  Dom Daddy.  DD/lg.  If you don’t like that or it squicks you, don’ read this.This story contains:  Dom!Tom, Daddy!Dom!Tom, DD/lg, Daddy Kink, Daddy Dom/little girl, spanking, NSFW, AgeplayAs always, just something stoopid.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers: Don’t know if this will be continued, but there’s certainly the potential for non-con. Spanking is contained herein. Daddy-kink. Dom Daddy. DD/lg. If you don’t like that or it squicks you, don’ read this.
> 
> This story contains: Dom!Tom, Daddy!Dom!Tom, DD/lg, Daddy Kink, Daddy Dom/little girl, spanking, NSFW, Ageplay
> 
> As always, just something stoopid.

[](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/0816.w.pop_.lo_.40-1542x1114_zpsb71t88sc.jpg.html)

“C’mere, babylove,” he ordered gruffly.

At that commanding tone – however gentle – you take a small step back, your hands automatically reaching behind you to defend your poor, already ravaged bottom, wishing you were wearing something more protective than just his expensively tailored dress shirt, despite the fact that it hangs down to somewhere between your bum and the backs of your knees, making you feel as if you’re a child wearing her father’s shirt.

[](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/chintochest_zpsdvdznhnj.gif.html)

You bite your lip as your reaction draws one from him that sets your heart thumping wildly, adrenaline pumping through every bit of your body and setting you very much on edge as you watch, mesmerized, as his chin lows slowly to his chest while he gazes out at you intently from those deep blue eyes of his, looking disappointed.

And it’s never good – you’ve learned the hard way – to disappoint Daddy.

“Defying me, little one? After the spanking you got not long ago?” he almost succeeds at sounding regretful at that – but not quite.

You shake your head vehemently, answering, “N-no, Sir.”

You begin the slow trek to him out of the necessity of convincing him that you weren’t trying to defy him - although, knowing how stern he is with you, it’s probably already a lost cause - feeling the slight breeze on your now overheating, dampening ladybits as well as the backside that’s still stinging from the aforementioned thrashing he gave you over his knee before bringing you to almost more screaming, writhing, damned –near-to-fainting heights of agonizing bliss than you could live through.

As you get to him, he stands, towering over you as always, making you feel even littler with that simple move, as he always did - along with treating you as such, reinforcing the relationship you had both chosen and knowing you loved it when he did all of those things, and more.

Tom immediately lifts you as if you weigh nothing - and you do to him - throwing you onto the bed on your tummy and placing his big hand on the center of your back to literally rip the shirt off you, leaving you lying naked and trembling before him.

“Ooh, just look at that swollen, scarlet bottom of yours, with my handprint all over it,” he tsks in mock sympathy, stretching out beside you on the bed and dragging first his surprisingly callused fingertips down over your throbbing curves - making you suddenly hiss your breath in – which is bad enough - but then he repeats the process back over them using his well manicured fingernails and you can’t suppress an out and out sob, which you know he heard, even though you bury your face in the thick coverlet.

And then he methodically delivers a second, searing punishment – one that leaves your feet pounding the bed with each heavy swat, trying not to kick up, your fists balled in the sheets in order to stop yourself from reaching back and making things a thousand times worse for yourself – after which he murmurs into your hair, almost casually, “Next time, little girl, I suggest you come when your Daddy calls you,” before flipping you quickly over onto your thoroughly ravaged backside and pinning you there with his big body. Once he does that, you know you have no hope of getting up until he allows it, the hideously expensive Egyptian cotton sheets already chafing your highly sensitized bottom so badly they might as well have been burlap sacks. No amount of pushing or shoving or wiggling or struggling – which you really don’t want to do anyway - will grant you escape. Nor will hitting him or whining, although neither of those are at all recommended, anyway.

He smoothly plants his enormous hands near your hips, solving several problems at once – trapping your arms there, as well as holding your legs splayed up and back, your knees hanging on his elbows, left widely open and vulnerable to him.

Just the way he prefers you to be.


End file.
